


The King of Reptiles

by Iolanfg



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Basilisks, Dark Mycroft Holmes, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Fantasy, Gen, Greg is Sweet, Molly Hooper Appreciation, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, Poor Mycroft, Protective Greg Lestrade, Protective Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Being a Good Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 14:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolanfg/pseuds/Iolanfg
Summary: Mycroft is not a snake. It is much more. His family tries to help him.Although in the West they have a bad reputation and calling someone a reptile or a snake is an insult, in other cultures the snake is a venerated totem, it is believed to bring balance and is a bridge between opposites. The symbolism of the snake is extensive, representing, among other things, cunning, intelligence, power, patience, rebirth, balance, protection, elegance, intuition and hidden knowledge. And all this makes me think of Mycroft...





	The King of Reptiles

**Author's Note:**

> Everything belongs to Doyle, Moffat and Gatiss.  
English is not my first language this was translated with the help of translator Deepl. I regret any error.

Leaning against the door of the interrogation room, Greg Lestrade sighed audibly. As he waited for help, and as if a mocking god had listened to his entreaties, Sherlock appeared, running with his coat waving elegantly behind him, and John behind him, snorting as he looked around curiously. That "room", hidden in the basement, was not normally used. But it was also unusual for the two people who were now in it to occupy it. Well, or the two people who had been there before ...  
\- Greg, I got it! I know how he got rid of the bodies! Leave me alone five minutes with him and...  
\- Sherlock, it won't be necessary...  
\- How come it won't be necessary? Do you have in there a serial killer who skinned his victims and made clothes out of his skin and I don't need to talk to him?  
\- Sherlock... Your brother came to see me... He was stressed, and bored, Sally let it slip that the alleged criminal was here, and....  
Sherlock squinted, beginning to understand.  
\- – ¿And...?  
Greg opened his mouth, but Molly Hooper's rapidly approaching voice saved him from having to respond.  
\- I can't believe it. What happened? I thought you had it all under control! - the pathologist was so indignant and nervous that she forgot to look at Sherlock with adoration. - Are they there?  
Greg moved to open the door, letting them into the room. John didn't quite know what he was hoping to find, but he certainly didn't find anything extraordinary, considering who was involved. It was a small room well lit by numerous fluorescent lights. There was a metal table in the middle, with a black chair. In one corner of the room, standing with fingers linked and gazing at the floor, was Mycroft Holmes. He looked like a child trapped in a mischief.  
\- Oh, Mycroft...- sighed Molly as she rushed towards the figure on the floor, in front of the table, which had gone unnoticed before. It was clear that the man had been sitting in the other chair, which was now lying on the floor. His medical reflexes went into action and he ran with Molly.  
\- He is dead,- he declared solemnly. Molly looked at him, framing an eyebrow. The " Really, genius? I'm a forensic surgeon, why else would I be here if there wasn't a dead man," not pronounced resounded in the room.  
\- Yes, John, he's dead. How? Why? - John looked at her confused.   
\- Well, without an autopsy it's hard to say, but it looks like a heart attack, or...- He looked at the dead man's face, his expression left him speechless: his pale face, his eyes unstuck, the man's overall expression was one of pure terror. Which didn't make sense, could anyone terrify themselves to death?  
Anthea closed the door and stood at the other end of the room without making a sound, all eyes fixed on the British Government.  
\- I just sat there, just like that. I have done nothing wrong, really...- he said with a small thread of a trembling voice and... And, oh, John had wanted nothing so much in his life as he wanted at that moment to embrace that man with the voice of an angel and the big eyes of a puppy, the man whose hair shone, there was even a light that seemed to radiate from him, his features were soft and sad. John felt an inexplicable warmth springing from within, he wanted to embrace and protect him, indignant at the simple idea that someone might think something bad of the poor man. At his side Molly sighed faintly and Anthea relaxed visibly.  
\- No, no, no, no! Enough,- shouted Greg, and the room sensation disappeared. Molly shook her head:  
\- Mycroft! Bad, very, very bad!  
It all happened in seconds. Suddenly, the lights flickered as the room seemed to shrink. He felt the cold in his bones, the hair on the back of his neck stood up while a strange sensation, a mixture of fear, guilt and hopelessness grew within him. He contained the urge to run away. Mycroft's face seemed to sharpen as his body seemed to gain height, his eyes narrowed and his pupils seemed thinner and vertical as he tilted his head and looked at Molly like a curious lizard.   
Greg snapped his fingers in front of him  
\- Mycroft!  
As soon as it started, it was all over. Mycroft shook his head, gasping. His appearance showed, this time yes, a true regret.  
\- I am sorry, Miss Hooper....  
\- All right, it's not your fault. What happened?- she said with a slight sigh. John looked at them one by one hoping that someone would explain to him what was going on.  
\- Nothing! I told you, I sat down in front of him, in silence, waiting for him to want to talk and suddenly....  
\- Like last week's MI6 agent?   
Sherlock scolding his older brother was not a novelty for John. Mycroft embarrassed and trying to defend himself, yes.  
\- He was a spy, Sherlock!  
\- Or the Russian ambassador a month ago?  
\- He was corrupt, Molly, they wouldn't let me press charges!  
\- And the waiter you caused a nervous breakdown in the restaurant a couple of nights ago, when we went out to dinner?   
\- If you intend to serve cold soup to a man, Gregory, and then murmur about how "delicate weirdos are" when you're told to take the plate back, the least you can do is not wear your lover's lace panties in the meantime!  
\- You can't make a guy scream that he's cheating on his wife, the owner's daughter, and that he's stealing money out of the box just because your soup is cold!  
\- It wasn't the soup! It was for being an imbecile...  
\- That doesn't matter, Mycroft! I thought you had it under control! - Sherlock shouted, angry.   
\- I know you've been under a lot of stress lately, Eurus, Brexit, your parents, the heat, climate change, people breathing, humanity in general... But really, Mycroft, you have to control yourself. I don't know if we can cover you forever. Lady Alice and Sir Edwin are being very patient, but ...   
John watched stunned as Mycroft leaned against the detective's body, hiding his face in the hollow of his neck.  
\- Is anyone going to tell me what's going on? - John got the looks of the rest, some like Molly or Greg seemed to have forgotten he was there and tensed into a defensive attitude. Anthea moved slightly, her eyes clearly saying that he shouldn't be there and that she was willing to solve the problems her presence caused. Sherlock came between them.  
\- Okay, all right, everybody calm down. Sorry, brother, you're going to have no choice but to take a vacation. Alone whit Greg. No contact with human stupidity or pettiness until you regain self-control and can deal with them again. - Mycroft looked at him from his hiding place under Lestrade's neck while Anthea groaned almost imperceptibly.  
\- What?  
\- This... There is... Mycroft has been asked to attend the next G20 meeting on behalf of Britain. Apart from the usual ones there are several small countries invited and...- Anthea fell silent and John thought that the faces of those present would not have shown more terror if Moriarty himself up entering through the door.  
\- But... no.... I mean, he can't go! You know what he does when he's like that and... God, last time we had to dye the windows of government cars because I couldn't allow even the slightest traffic infraction. What are he going to do surrounded by big corrupt little dictators?  
Mycroft groaned against Greg's neck, rubbing his forehead against him. He looked exhausted.  
\- It's okay, honey, it's okay. We'll figure it out, okay? Now we have to get out of here, fill out the paperwork and then we'll think of something, okay? We've done it before - Mycroft nodded as he let go of the hug, straightening himself out of the room.  
\- I... I'm tired, maybe I should go home... Are you coming? - he asked shyly. Greg nodded with a brief smile as he dragged him out of the room.  
\- Will your take care of this? - Greg glanced at them in gratitude as they nodded. His gaze stopped at John- Look, I know this is strange, but...  
\- Okay, go, - Sherlock pushed them towards the door - don't worry, we'll fix this mess... And you, Mycroft, don't look badly at anyone! What's more, don't look at anyone, or I'll tell Mom.  
When they were alone John dared to speak again.  
\- So what does this mean? I don't understand what happened - he said, pointing to the body. Sherlock sighed.  
\- What happened, John, is that Mycroft killed that man.  
\- Mycroft is incapable of killing anyone! Besides, there are no signs of struggle or...  
\- No need. That man deserved to die, and Mycroft killed him. Or made him want to die, as you want to see him. He did not want to, but he has. He just .... looked at it, and... - John opened his mouth to close it again.  
\- No, I haven't gone crazy. I told you he was the most dangerous man in the world. Remember you told me that Mrs. Hudson called Mycroft a "reptile"? Well, Mycroft is not a reptile. It's... Part of it... Let's say he would be the King of reptiles. He can survive in any environment, he is old, much more than he should be, also wiser. He is strange and dangerous. He has never really harmed anyone. Not what a court would consider harming. He only looks at you, in silence, and all your fears, all your sins materialize before you... - Sherlock seemed to be in a faraway place as he spoke. - If you think Eurus is dangerous, then Mycroft... He controls himself, most of the time, but sometimes he has crisis....  
\- And you come to control it. He's not the one watching you, even if you complain about his constant vigilance. You got a detective who will take care of any strange death, a pathologist takes care of the victims, you have created an ecosystem around him! . Wait a minute, Mrs. Hudson...?  
\- Yes. It was a reminder. It was my fault, her loss of control is usually my fault... You really don't know how close you came to dying that day. He's a good guy really. You get attached to him, even if we don't like to show it to him, he's already too protective and presumptuous as he is...  
\- He keeps the world under control and you keep him...  
\- Something like that... Well, let's go.  
\- Wait a minute, you just told me that your brother is something like a basilisk, and that's it? What's up with this guy? Whatever he's done, he'll have a family that...  
\- A family that will receive generous compensation for life and has been rid of a monster. Really, John, he've never lost control with someone who doesn't deserve it. Sometimes laws aren't enough. I remind you that here we all have a dead man in the closet. And speaking of dead, Molly...?  
\- Yes, Sherlock," answered the young woman without raising her head, "you can come and play with the corpse.  
\- Well, I need to investigate her brain. Now let's go. Ah, by the way, John, - stopped halfway, turning - if you say a word of this.... Well, you know...  
\- What? Will you kill me? - Sherlock's laughter echoed in the empty corridor.  
\- No, for God's sake, John, no. After all, who was going to believe you? No, we'll let you tell it, the world will laugh a little and then... Well, we won't get there, will we? Tea?  
John looked at him, shaking his head.  
\- Beer. I need beer. Lots of beers.  
\- Well, beer then.


End file.
